April 3-9, 2026
April 3–9, 2026 — Taking Stock
Another solid week.
I made a day trip to Tokyo for a presentation. Even after all these years, I still get nervous before those. I prepared well, went in, did the job, and it landed the way it needed to. Afterward, I went out to dinner with some colleagues—many of them new hires—and it turned into one of those quietly good nights. Nothing dramatic, just conversation, energy, people who are clearly motivated and working hard.
Talking with them, I found myself taking stock of where I am. They’re in that phase of pushing hard, building something, carrying a heavy load. And I realized how different my situation is now. I’m working mostly from home. No long commutes. No constant travel. There was a time when going back and forth to Kobe or Tokyo was just part of life. Now, the idea of returning to that feels distant, almost unrealistic. I’m not sure I’d want to—or even could—go back to that version of things. It made me aware, again, of how fortunate I am.
On the Diane Method side, I think I’ve reached a clear point.
It’s been three months since I launched the website, and it’s not going anywhere. That’s not frustration talking—it’s just the reality. There’s no traffic, no momentum, and I’m not doing anything to change that. So I’ve accepted it. I’ll keep it running through the end of the year since it’s already paid for, and then I’ll shut it down. No drama.
The music project is still in limbo. No response from my old collaborator. He reappeared briefly, showed interest, and then disappeared again. That’s his pattern. It always has been. I’m not going to sit on it indefinitely, though. At some point—probably within the next week or so—I’ll send a simple message: if I don’t hear back, I’m releasing it. I don’t like being held in place by someone else’s silence.
On the writing side, things are moving well. I’ve got some time off coming up—about a week and a half, maybe two—and I plan to use it to push the memoir forward.
The main question I keep circling is how much to reveal.
Right now, the answer is: everything.
I’ve already gone into areas that would probably surprise my wife, my kids, even my parents. There are moments I’ve written that I never would have said out loud before. And I’ve thought about pulling back, softening certain parts, leaving things out. But every time I do that, it feels like I’m undercutting the whole point of it.
So for now, I’m not censoring it. I’m laying it out as it happened.
That’s the one part of the Diane Method that still holds. The truth-telling itself. Whether or not the broader idea works for other people, I don’t know. I still think it might, but only if someone is willing to go deep and stay consistent with it. It’s not something you can do casually for a couple of weeks and expect a result. It requires repetition. Commitment. A willingness to keep digging even when it’s uncomfortable.
For me, at least, it’s doing something. Maybe not in a dramatic, life-changing way, but enough to matter. It gives me something to focus on. Something to build.
And practically speaking, AI has become part of that process. Not in the sense of replacing anything, but in helping me get started. The hardest part is always the beginning—getting something out of your head and onto the page. Once it’s there, I can work with it. Shape it. Cut it down. But getting that first rough version out—that’s where AI helps.
That’s where things stand this week.
No big shifts. Just a clearer view of what’s working, what isn’t, and where I’m heading next.